


Destined

by RatTale



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: A bit of a consensual issue, A spell makes them do it, Angst, But it works out alright, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flynn Carsen cares about Jenkins, Hurt Jenkins, Hurt Stone, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Magic, Pining, Spells & Enchantments, reciting poetry like a boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatTale/pseuds/RatTale
Summary: “Sorry, I –“ Jacob shook his head, “I did not mean to do that. Sorry.”I did not mean to enjoy it.Jenkins and Stone are having some strange reactions to one another, particularly of the romantic variety. Between the two of them they try to figure out what is causing these reactions, but time is running out, as the spell forces them to become more and more intimate. Jacob is unwilling for it go that far, and Jenkins quietly struggles with his love for the man, as Jacob's clear hate for the situation, and by extension, Jenkins himself, only escalates.
Relationships: Jenkins | Galahad/Jacob "Jake" Stone
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have always loved these two! Such a damned rare-pair, but IDK it sorta works in my head XD
> 
> This story is finished! Expect a chapter a day :)

There were currently giant marshmallows floating over the Australian Outback.

One half of the locals believed it to be a sign of the end-times, the other half seemed to think it was a nice bit of entertainment. Which it might have been, if all of the pink Marshmallows hadn’t been _people_ at one point.

The warm silence of the library was tense. Fitfully disturbed by the quick turn of papers, punctuated only by brief comments from the two men desperately looking for answers. Jacob and Jenkins were both huddled around the center table, towers of books piled around them, an empty teacup balanced on a nearby copy of the original Iliad. Finding a single symbol's original meaning was turning out to be more difficult than they initially thought.

Even with their vast knowledge and experience combined, neither could ever recall even seeing a three headed rat with a five fingered eye.

Colonel Baird, Ezekial and Cassandra were all in the small Derby town of Australia, trying to find pick up the trail of the man who was painting the darned symbols over the roads and homes. It was creating quite a strange time-loop paradox. With lots and lots of marshmallows.

“What about this?”

Jenkins leaned over, the symbol was indeed eye in nature, and did have five digits sprouting from the top.

“It's close,” he conceded, drawing the book closer. Jacob stood a little closer, and licked his lips, a sure tell of his anxious state. “But the style is too reminiscent of Egypt. We need to find something more.... primal. Even the rat in the symbol seems primitive in design.”

“Right...” he paused, Jenkins put the book down and looked at him. He could see the wheels turning, the thoughts beginning a maniacal dance in his head, his eyes seemingly following them as slow realization began to dawn. He smiled, clapped his hand and trotted backwards.

“I got it!”

“You do?”

“Aboriginal!”

Jenkins waited for a full three seconds. “Which ones?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“Australia!” he yelled, trotting back with a book in hand. Flipping through the pages he slammed the book on the table with a victorious huff. “ _And_ India!” Jenkins spread out his arms, lying both palms flat on the table and leaned a little closer, then smiled. “I see. Two symbols, combined to create one. That would make _much_ more sense.”

“If one symbol can do one thing.”

“Combing two can have a much different effect.” he paused tracing the eye with a long finger, old memories of disaster and destruction swimming into focus. “This is not good. Combining symbols from different magics can create... chaos.”

“Well flying houses I think counts.” Jacob said, leaning in a little closer to look at the symbols again.

Jenkins huffed, “True. The only way to disperse it is to use a combination incantation, a sort of hybrid. Now that we know what we’re dealing with, I’ll write one up.”

“Thanks for the help Jenkins.”

He nodded, still focused on the image. “Anytime Mr. Stone.”

Jacob leaned up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Warmth bloomed down his face, making his heart flutter and Jenkins smiled softly at the gesture. The cracking whip of realisation blasted the feeling into oblivion.

Blinking Jenkins turned to looked at Stone who was staggering back and away as if from a snake, his wide and mouth hanging open.

“Sorry, I –“ he shook his head, “I did not mean to do that. Sorry.”

_I did not mean to enjoy it_. He wanted to say but quickly bit down on his tongue. He straightened, “It's quite alright Mr. Stone, we are all under a lot of pressure.” his cheek still felt warm. He shook his head, “I will write up the incantation and call it in shortly, go and help Colonel Baird in the field.”

Without a word Stone stormed out of the Annex disappearing in a flash of white light. Jenkins picked up the book and stalked down the library, wondering why Mr. Stone had decided to kiss him, and more importantly why it had seemed so natural to enjoy it.


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later Jenkins noted with some latent surprise that Mr. Stone was well and truly avoiding him. It seemed silly he felt, a peck on the cheek hardly warranted such an adverse reaction, and to be quite honest, a repeat performance would not go so far amiss. Jenkins shook his head, annoyed. The thought forced up the small bubble of uncertainty he still fostered. Their relationship had always been amicable. They were often in each other’s company and Jacob appeared to enjoy sharing thoughts or theories and just spending time with an old Knight. But a man like Jacob Stone would most certainly not find an old man like Jenkins appealing, in any way shape or form.

So even if a repeat performance would not go amiss, he would not expect it, he rarely expected anything to work in his favour. Such optimism had been left behind centuries ago. Especially concerning matters of the heart. But still the question remained; why had Jacob kissed him? He certainly hadn’t looked like he’d wanted to do it. Poor man had looked like he’d swallowed a live squid. Horrified and a little disgusted.

The expression only served to banish any further hopes into oblivion. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with attraction. But it still _worried_ him.

“Jenkins?”

He turned, slightly startled by the sudden voice, Mr. Stone stood at the end of the isle, hands in his pockets and looking for all the world dead set on fleeing the moment Jenkins dared to speak. So instead he smiled and turned back to returning the dummy of books to their rightful places.

“Are you alright?” his voice was a little raw, he wondered at that.

“Perfectly fine Mr. Stone.” he replied, walking a few feet down, “Why do you ask?”

“Well when I got here you were standing real still, as if...” he cleared his throat, “As if you were in deep thought. Took me two times of callin’ your name before you reacted.”

Jenkins paused. That hadn't happened in a while. He bit back a weary sigh. “I am fine Mr. Stone, sometimes my thoughts do wander. I am a very old man.”

Jacob didn't smile or chuckle, and nor did he take the bait. Sliding in the last book Jenkins turned to look him. He was still standing at the mouth of the isle, hands in his pockets and examining the floor with such interest, Jenkins wondered if he’d spotted a book down there.

With a smile he shook his head at the man’s unease. There was always a way to fix everything, no matter how despondent the man might look now, he will learn that fact soon enough. Nothing is truly unsalvageable. “But I feel I should be asking you the same question Mr. Stone.”

He didn't look up, and Jenkins took the opportunity to move a little closer. “You have been doing a stellar job in avoiding me.” He was standing right in front of him when he spoke again.

Jacob jumped, surprised by his proximity and for a moment Jenkins was quite certain he would run. Jenkins tilted his head, curious. “Although I can't imagine why.”

The frown tightened and Jacob’s broad shoulders sagged.

“Is this about the kiss?”

He winced but nodded, then he shifted and ripped his hand up to scratch the back of his head “I don't know why I did that.” he sighed, “It just felt so damned...”

_Natural_. He thought, but kept it to himself.

“… well for whatever reason I did it, I am sorry, I really didn't want to do it.”

Jenkins smiled, hiding a vicious stab of hurt. For whatever reason he’d decided to like the young man, to kindle that small flame of hope, he could now burry the feeling. Again, thank you very much.

Jacob's licked his lips, “I just don't wanna lose your respect.”

The sting eased a bit. Noble, the word applied so well to the man that Jenkins had often had trouble _not_ imagining him as a knight of the round table. Arthur would have been proud to have him as one his brother’s in arms. With barely a thought Jenkins placed a hand on the firm shoulder, “There is very little you can do to make me lose your respect for you Mr. Stone. You've had it for a very long time, and it will take a lot more than a peck on the cheek to abolish it.”

Jacob’s expression was flooded with relief and Jenkins allowed his hand to slide down his arm to his hand where he gripped it softly and brought it up to his face. With a large thumb he traced the callouses marred from barfights and labour.

He leaned down and kissed them.

Again, the same humming warmth blossomed, running down his lips to pool in chest. When he pulled back the warmth tingled down his arms and he smiled.

And then the smile died. Jacob was staring at him, wide-eyed and worried, as if he may have grown a second head. He may as well have he realized. But in the same expression were faint traces of uncertainty.

Jenkins let go, “I need to get back to work.”

Jacob nodded and stood back to let Jenkins pass, who could already feel the cold wash of shock slowly running down his spine. What the hell was going on?


	3. Chapter 3

The late hour was not welcome, but unsurprising. The kettle was on the stove, and Jenkins was watching it, waiting for it to boil. Jasmine tea stood ready on the counter.

Avoiding anyone was childish. He should know, being avoided himself for over two weeks gave a very fresh perspective on the matter. However, Jenkins did find himself avoiding Jacob, at least for now. He'd kissed his hand over a week ago, and now he can't stop thinking about it. His nights were spent researching anything he could find on lust spells, love potions, and anything else which might bring about this sort of reaction in both of them.

But nothing clear was coming up, and he was starting to get worried.

“Hey.”

_Damn_ , he thought. “Evening Mr. Stone.” Nowhere to run now. Jenkins looked up just as Jacob walked in, dressed in a t-shirt and loose pants. He looked groggy as if he'd been sleeping at least up until recently. He sat down across from him, crossed his arms and stared at the counter top.

“So,” he said, drawing Jenkins' attention back to him fleetingly, “You've been avoiding me hunh?”

He dropped his gaze back to counter. “Yes.” he said simply and slowly leaned back. With some effort he made eye contact and barely managed to keep it. “I've been trying to figure out what is going on...” his hand beat a sure rhythm on the table. “With our odd reactions to one another.”

A bloom of pure relief washed over Jacob’s face, erasing the tightness of his expression. “So, you think it’s a spell too?”

“Yes, it would appear so, at least.”

Letting out a puff of breath, Jacob sat back and grinned. “That’s a damned relief! It didn’t make sense in any case, I mean why the hell would I even wanna kiss ya? Or vice verca?”

Like needles piercing nerves, the words stung him straight to the bone, but Jenkins smiled it away, “Why indeed.”

“So whadda we do now?”

“Short of staying away from each other? I don’t know.” He shifted, “I’ve been searching through most of the Library’s sources and my own for the last few days.”

Stone nodded, “Been doin' that myself.” he said with a small smile, “Haven't come up with anythin'.”

“Neither have I.” he conceded, suddenly quite vexed, “It is, annoying to put it lightly.”

Jacob chuckled, when Jenkins turned a sharp look at him he raised both hands, “Don't worry about it.” he leaned a little closer, “Ya can't know everything all the time, and we'll figure it out.” he smiled and Jenkins felt the his ire dissipate. “It's odd though, everything feels pretty, natural.”

“Mm,” he hummed, “It is peculiar,” and not entirely unwelcome. The treacherous thought was smothered down.

“Have you never experienced anything like this?”

Jenkins shook his head, “No. Despite being immune to most magic and potions, I have been under one or two desire spells myself, and this...” he gestured between them, “Is nothing of the sort.”

“What about Cupid's arrow?”

His eyebrows shot up, “Mr. Stone, if we were under Cupid's spell, we would not be idly discussing wayward kisses, we'd be doing much, much more than that.”

Stone swallowed and with some amusement Jenkins watched him turn quite a lovely shade of pink. “Well then, ah, good that it’s, um not that then.”

“Indeed.” he bit back a smile. The sharp whistle from the kettle pulled his gaze away from the uncomfortable man and he quickly turned down the stove. “Can I perhaps offer you some tea? Coffee?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

Nodding amiably Jenkins poured the tea into the ceramic pot and returned it to the flame. Jacob stood and came to lean next to him by the counter, arms crossed and brow wrinkled. Turning as well, Jenkins leaned next to him, staring at the tiles opposite. It was a mess to be sure, but not perhaps the most vile of messes. Still he couldn’t help but wonder what Jake thought of all of this. He'd always pegged him as a ladies’ man, never a womanizer, but definitely interested in their beauty and smarts.

Did this appall him? Jenkins certainly hoped not, but he didn't want to outright ask.

“You're not weirded out by this at all?”

Jekins smiled, of course if Jake would like to ask, he wasn't about to stop the lad. “No,” he smiled, and turned to pour the tea into a waiting cup. “I've been around a very long time, Mr. Stone, this is by far the more... tame spell or potion or sway I have been under. And it appears to be harmless, at least for now.” he turned to look at Jacob, noting the frown was still heavy. His voice softened and his smile slid away, “Does it bother you so much?”

Jake didn't answer immediately, his hands flexed and his jaw worked, “When it happens, it's quite nice? But afterwards I feel odd about it, like I'm being robbed of something.”

Jenkins sipped his tea, taking some comfort in the brew and taste.

“I don't like it.” he finally conceded, “Not at all.”

Jenkins replaced the cup, “Look at me.”

Stone took a hard breath then turned his head, his expression etched and ready for battle. With a soft smile Jenkins tried to ease the tension, “Whatever this is, it won't last. We will figure it out before it goes too far. You are a Librarian, nothing can prevent you and I, from fixing this Mr. Stone.”

For a full moment Jacob didn't say a word, his eyes large and shining in the moonlight, soft yet fierce. Then slowly he uncrossed his arms and turned to Jenkins, smiling. “Thank you.”

Jenkins felt the same warmth bubbling up through his chest, down to his left arm. Jacob was smiling too, tightening his hold on Jenkins' hand. Sharp reality dawned and as one their heads snapped down to where their hands were intertwined.

“Damn.” Jacob muttered pulling away, “I didn't mean that, sorry.”

“If it is any consolation, Mr. Stone.” he took another sip of tea, “I will never think less of you for any action you take from this day onward.”

Jacob's hands tightened into fists, his eyes turned hard, but his words soft. “Right back at ya Jenkins.”

They both said their goodnights and farewells. Stone returning to wherever he was sleeping tonight and Jenkins headed for his room to meditate.


	4. Chapter 4

They both decided it would be best to keep the others out of the loop. It wasn't interfering with either of their duties for the time being, and none of the others really needed to know in any case. Jenkins didn’t mind it, in fact he felt rather warmed by the idea of having Jacob like this for himself for as short a time as it would last. The Knight in him resisted, he would never take advantage, and he made sure to push himself twice as hard in finding an answer.

But the wayward touches and brushes did not slow down. Hand holding turned into entwined fingers, pressed snug and tight, pecks on the cheek now occurred twice a day, often accompanied by a tender caresses. Jenkins made sure to keep all reactions as clinical as possible when Stone did any of this. The lad always seemed fiercely uncomfortable, to the point of grinding his teeth for a few moments after some of their exchanges.

Jenkins once found him after a lingering peck punching the bag so hard it broke off its hinges. He tried not to let his emotions get the best of him, but it was a losing battle. He hated this. Hated that he was the cause of the man’s distress. Hated that he couldn’t fix it, that he couldn’t bring balance back into his life. Hated that the cause was _affection_. That he disgusted Jacob so much.

So, he ensured to remain calm and neutral through it all. And if he touched Stone or held his hand, or heaven forbid, kissed it again, he also ensured to move on just as quickly, pretending like it didn’t matter. It at least seemed to ease a little of Jacob’s distress.

But even after three days of nonstop searching, they still had nothing to show for it. Curses and spells were tested but none brought any fruition. Jenkins tested both of them for possible potion effects, but nothing came of that either. So, they were going through the long process of moving backwards from their first interaction and canceling out any artifacts they may have come into contact with.

Jenkins was sitting on a sofa, arm draped across the back. Tucked away in a small red and brown room in the Library hidden away from everyone. He often wondered if Flynn even knew about, as he’d never found any proof of the man’s presence, physical or otherwise. But now he was sharing his small comfortable space with Stone. Not appalling by any stretch of the imagination, but he held that little pleasure to himself.

“So, to reiterate, we have both came into contact with the Wand of Durgh, the Broom of Yaga, Cal, Odinson's eye, Rubrum Rattus, and then a slew of mystical symbols we have on your list.” Stone was pacing a few feet in front of him, ticking off the artifacts as he mentioned them. “But none of them could create or even suggest a desire spell.”

“True.” Jenkins conceded.

“Maybe it was a combination, like the symbol we had to abolish three weeks ago?”

Jenkins considered this, “It could be.” he said at length, “But then we will have to cross reference all of the artifacts and figure out if any of them might change if tampered with.”

Stone nodded and plopped down next to him, dropping the book on the table, then leaned back. “We can do that tomorrow. I’m dead on my feet.”

“Certainly, it has been a long day.”

Jacob chuckled and turned just so, leaning his head against Jenkins shoulder and chest. The affection was not unwelcome but curious. As the days wore on, Jenkins noted that the young historian became more and more comfortable around him. Jenkins would peg it down to the spell they were under, but he hadn’t had the same desire. Or rather no more of a desire than usual.

The young man shifted a bit, pressing that bit closer. “I’m a little surprised the others haven’t figured it out yet. Thought they were supposed to be smart.”

Jenkins huffed, “People miss what is in front of them, especially if it is something they never considered. We do not like our own beliefs challenged.”

“True.”

The two remained seated, comfortable in the quiet of the small room. Slowly Jenkins turned, bringing his arm around Stone to touch his rough face with a calloused fingertip, scratching lightly over the stubble beard. He breathed hard, taking in the scent of his hair. Then he slid down, sliding his lips over the skin on his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and cologne. “As the morning air brushes the window pane, and how much time of all it takes to know.”

Stone shuddered, and Jenkins moved his mouth, over his chin, his hands now brushing into hazel hair, “The movement of your arm, the steps you take,” his mouth moved up to kiss a jaw, Stone’s breathing hitched, “The curves along your head, your ears, your hair.” he smiled, pressing lips firmly to a beating pulse, “For all of this, each hand, each finger, Each lip, each breath, each sigh, Each word and sound of voice or tongue, I would require an age to contemplate.”

Carefully he pulled back, turning him to face him, his breathing ragged and soft, and eyes wide and needy. Leaning close, he whispered, “But for your heart your mind your thoughts, all these,” he leaned in close allowing lips to brush over his, “To love them all I need at least five centuries.”

Jacob shuddered, hand tight and trembling on his jacket, “Jenkins...” the word was hoarse, needy, begging. He closed the distance.

The kiss sent sparks of delightful pleasure down his spine, that same humming warmth rippled over his skin, straight to his heart. Jacob moaned and Jenkins pressed closer, sliding his tongue over closed lips, relishing the bitter taste of coffee, and _Jacob_.

The spell broke. Jenkins blinked, feeling the blood rush to his face. Did he just recite _poetry_? He hadn’t done anything that romantic in… well an exceedingly long time. Blinking again he looked down to find Jacob still as a statue, his eyes closed, his jaw tight. He was practically vibrating, the grip on Jenkin’s jacket positively brutal. Slowly, carefully Jenkins pulled away, “Mr. Stone -” before he could even ask Jacob stood up and stormed out, wiping his mouth.

Jenkins hoped the punching bag would survive this one.


	5. Chapter 5

They avoided each other for the rest of the day, which was probably for the best. Jenkins continued searching for an answer to their predicament, but by evening he retired, quite spent.

The following morning, he woke up to a faint pain in his right hand. A prickle of unpleasantness, he half-way assumed he’d cut off circulation during the night. By noon it was still there, and progressively getting worse. At times his hand would cramp, freezing completely for a few seconds before allowing the muscles to relax again. He jotted it down as a side-effect of the spell and carried on with his duties.

Midday found him in the kitchen making tea when another hard spasm hit. It was so sudden he could barely keep down a cry of surprise, his hand losing instantly losing the grip on his saucer.

“Mr. Jenkins!”

The teacup lay in pieces across the floor, his right hand contorted to the point of blind agony. He bent over and breathed through a wave of pain. “I am fine, Miss Cillian.”

“No, you’re not!” she stuttered, her voice rising in pitch, “You’re in pain! I’m going to get –“

“No-one.” He straightened, his voice brook no room for argument. “I am fine. It was a cramp, that was all, I assure you I am fine.” The pain was finally ebbing away into something manageable. She frowned, clearly unconvinced, but Jenkins had managed to lie to far shrewder people than her. Slowly her face eased and she nodded.

“Okay,” she fell quiet, watching him scoop up the broken pieces. “Can I make you some tea?”

He tensed, "That will not be -"

"Please?"

Her expression was soft, caring, touched with determination. Something akin to what a mother might have when helping a stubborn child. He chuckled, his ire dissipated, “I would sincerely appreciate that Miss Cillian.”

She smiled brightly and quickly started the pot, while Jenkins finished cleaning up. Watching her make his tea warmed him through. Some battles are lost before they are started.

* * *

His right hand was now cramping every seven minutes or so, to the point that he had to stop working entirely. What in the devil was going on? And where the _hell_ was Stone? By evening he was laid out on the couch in his little nook, gripping his right to his chest and trying to stop thinking about the incessant throbbing.

A rough hand grabbed his shoulder, the sudden absence of pain was almost as shocking as the cramps, and Jenkins cried out a moment before he was forcibly turned and brutally kissed. Warmth, blooming, wonderful, comfort, softness, sweetness, _Jacob_.

Jenkins kissed back, bringing his hands up to slide into beautiful hair, enjoying the taste, the wonderful feeling of having him close. His heart raced and the the warmth bloomed again as Jacob slid out his tongue coaxing Jenkins' mouth open and -

Jacob ripped away, rushing in the cold of reality, and collapsed on the floor, back against the couch and head buried in his hands.

The silence felt cold, bitter, unwelcoming, filled only with their hard breathing. Jenkins watched him gasp quick and hard, and wished he could reach out and comfort the man. He resisted, and slowly pushed himself to sit up. He watched him for a moment, “You were in pain as well?”

“Yeah,” said Jacob, voice rough. He wiped his face. His shoulders shuddering with a hard sigh, “Couldn’t work or concentrate. Thought if I stayed away it would just _fuck off_.”

Jenkins was glad Jacob was not looking at him at the moment. He couldn’t mask the sharp pinch of pain quick enough. “I’m sorry.”

Jacob glanced at him, his eyes red and face tight with frustration, “What for?”

For making you so uncomfortable, for hurting you, for clearly putting you in a position of absolute torment. For not being someone else. He shook his head, “For the whole damned ordeal.”

Jacob barked a rough laugh, “Aint your fault.”

Jenkins had nothing to add. For a time they sat in silence. The darkness of the room only wrapping their misery closer. How was any of this fair? Life, he’d learned a very long time ago, in all of its intricacies, was not ever fair. But this felt entirely out of place. Had he upset some magical being recently? Had Jacob? Poor man was suffering as much as Jenkins, albeit for different reasons.

“It’s escalating, you know?” Jacob’s voice barely floated up through the darkness, muffled and rough.

Oh, he knew. From pecks, to hand holding, to lingering touches, to poetry, to kisses to make-out sessions, they were going for the Full Monty as they say. Jenkins nodded, “I know.”

“We’re gonna have sex.” His voice cracked, like fragile glass, breaking under too much pressure. Without thought Jenkins slid off the couch to kneel in front of Jacob. His face was pained, a mix of fear and anger warring for dominance. Slowly, he reached up and touched his shoulder, relieved that at least he didn’t flinch away.

“It will not come to that.”

“How do you know-“

His hand tightened, surprising Jacob into silence, “On my word as a Knight, I swear to you, I _will not_ allow that to happen.”

He braced himself for any reaction, for rejection, laughter, or even denial. Jacob smiled a little, placed a hand on Jenkin’s shoulder and said, “Thanks Jenkins.”

He relaxed, basking in the warmth of Jacob’s smile.


	6. Chapter 6

He went in search of Flynn early the next morning, only to learn the Librarian had left for a mission and would not be back for a while. This was a major hitch, but he refused to give up. He would not, could not allow this to hurt Jacob a moment further. For the rest of the morning he scoured through the forbidden books at the dark corners of the Library, risking parts of his sanity in pursuit of any answers. A wild sort of desperation overcame him. He had made a promise and he had to keep to that promise, no matter the cost to himself.

By early afternoon he could barely see straight and headed up to his room to rest.

Visions of possessed words swirled and stuttered through his mind like some mad-hatter march. It made him ill, but he kept running possibilities through his head. An hour after he’d collapsed on the bed he was up again, grabbing books from their shelves and searching for any sort of answer that would fit this bloody thing. At certain points purple lettering would appear mid-air, making his head spike in pain, but he ignored it. He could ignore a lot of discomfort if the situation called for it.

Accidently, as he pulled books from shelves, he ripped out one of his old journals. It clattered to the floor, spilling open and revealing his old scrawl across yellowed pages. Bending down he scooped it up and paged through, instantly feeling a smile tug at his lips. Mostly a thought-journal it documented some of his more interesting ideas or theories, here and there little drawings and etchings filled up the empty spaces. And in between those another splattering of a different hand-writing.

He chuckled, Charlene could never quite keep her opinions to herself.

“ _Absolute nonsense!_ _If this were true, Saint George should be a crisp!_ ” lay scribbled beside a short theory involving dragon fire.

“ _I’d like to damn well see you try this in the field, Mr. Knight_.” another one beside a note on the possibility that Yeti’s hunt based on movement. He shook his head. He’s never tried it.

“ _I know you like someone. Tell them or I will do something drastic_!”

And his smile died. You. He thought. It had always been you. Your fire, your smile, your eyes, your kindness and beauty. His fingers traced the words, enjoying the indent on the page. Even her writing reflected her impatience, her passion. He shut the book and closed his eyes. First Charlene and now Stone.

Could he stop falling for people who cannot love him back?

A soft knock pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked at the door and hesitated, he could pretend he wasn’t here. Discussing whatever trivialities the Librarians needed could wait.

“Jenkins?”

Jacob.

The misery died, he shut the journal and slid it back into place, “Come in, Mr. Stone!”

The door opened and without a word Jacob stepped in, closed the door behind him and walked up to take his hand in a warm grip. The cramp in his hand lessened. Oh… _oh_.

“Couldn’t find you anywhere.” He said softly.

“Mr. Stone, I-“

“S’fine.” He said and after a lingering moment, let go, Jenkins felt bereft of something beautiful. Jacob cast a glance about the room, which was in complete disarray, “Looks like you were busy.”

He smiled a touch self-consciously, “A little.” He moved over to his books, “I’ve been searching through texts we hadn’t really thought of yet.” His headache spiked, more words swirling around in his head. He rubbed at his temple.

“Are you alright?”

He started, Jacob was right next to him, face etched in worry. “Fine,” he said, “Perfectly fine.”

“Jenkins.” The word was equal parts worry and reprimand, and Jenkins smiled briefly.

“I may have, ah, taken my research to the… darker parts of our library.”

Almost instantly Jacob’s eyes widened, “The forbidden section? Jeezus, Jenkins! You always say we should only go in there two atta time!”

“And I’ve been here much longer than you!” he snapped, turning away, “I know my way around the Library Mr. –” another spike of pain cut through his skull and Jenkins grabbed the bookshelf for support, breathing hard. Gentle hands took him by the shoulders and guided him to the bed.

“Siddown,” said Jacob, pushing Jenkins backwards to do just that. He collapsed and pressed his heads into waiting hands. The pain was subsiding agonizing bit but agonizing bit.

Two rough hands slid into his hair, gently massaging his sculp and Jenkins let out a soft moan. Oh that felt divine. They ran through his locks, down to his neck and back into his hair. Jenkins tilted his head up, reached for Jacob’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

A wonderful arch of lust pulsed through him. His heart racing in his chest, pulling at Jacob’s firm frame and adjusting a little until Jacob finally settled in his lap. His form was heavy and warm, making him hum in delight even as he delved his tongue deeper into Jacob’s mouth. The man arched into him, grinding his hips down in a slow deliberate movement, sending wonderful jolts of pleasure down Jenkins’ spine. His hands were still in Jenkin’s hair, pulling and tugging –

Jenkins growled and flipped them, pressing the man into the bed, grinding down between his legs, his hands roaming over his body. Jacob arched, breaking the kiss to moan wantonly, pulling Jenkins in for another to nip and suck at his throat. Jenkins hands roamed, down, down over chest, stomach, waist straight to his –

The flash of purple was all warning he got before a spike of pain sliced through his skull. Jenkins hissed and pulled away, taking hard breaths to bring the pulsing waves of pain under control. Damn it all, this was going to happen for a while. After a long moment he cracked open his eyes.

Stones' eyes had slid shut. Now that he wasn’t crippled by the head ache he could distinctly feel the man trembling.

“Mr. Stone?” he asked softly.

“Please get off me.”

Jenkins shifted, in an instant Jacob was up and running for the bathroom. Not even bothering to slam the door shut and hide the retches. Jenkins sat dead still, each gag and cough punching him straight in the gut. A wash of shame sloshed down his throat and for the first time over a century he felt his throat turn tight with tears. This was worse than rejection. He could damn well handle rejection! Lord knows he’s done so too many times in his millennia of life.

But this… this was akin to psychological _torture_. Placing both feet on the floor he leaned over and pressed his face into waiting hands. Your misery does not matter! He scolded, he needs your support.

The retching had mercifully stopped. Standing up he grabbed a glass from his bedside table and headed for the bathroom.

Jacob was just standing up, leaning over the sink, pale and shaking. He was sweating profusely. Jenkins poured some water into the glass and held it out. “Here.”

Without a word Jacob grabbed the glass and downed it. Done he wiped his mouth and tightened a near death-grip on it. Jenkins worried the glass would shatter. “Thank you.” Said Jacob.

Jenkins nodded, “Are you alright, Mr. Stone?”

“Mr. Stone?” he said, huffing a rough laugh, “You're really going with that after what we just did?”

“Please calm down -”

“Calm down?” the glass shattered against the wall, “Don't tell me ta calm the fuck down!” the mirror splintered under his fist, “I just rutted you like a horny teenager! We almost had sex! Do you know what that means Jenkins?”

He did.

“It means the next time this happens we _will -_ ” another punch to the cabinet, sending chips of wood flying “ - be having sex! I'll be splayin' myself open for ya, I'll be a good little whore for ya. And I can't stop it!” the cabinet crumbled under the third punch, sending splinters and wood flying.

Stone's heaving broke the ringing silence. Pieces of wood flaked to the floor, in between fragments of glass and broken bottles of medicine. Wiping a hand over his brow, Jenkins sighed and pushing down his own growing turmoil, he asked the one question he’d been meaning to for a while. “What bothers you so much about this?”

“What?” With pained effort he pulled his hand free, revealing splinters of glass and wood sticking up out of the skin. Jenkins sighed again and reached into the bottom cabinet to pull out a small medi-kit. He pulled out gauze, alcohol, a suture kit and some tweezers.

“I'd like to know why you are so afraid of this.” Before Stone could prod at the wounds, Jenkins grabbed the hand in and expert grip and pulled it closer, tweezers at the ready.

“I'm not scar-”

“You're _terrified_.” he pulled out a piece of glass.

Jacob watched him work on his hand for a long minute. “These things.” He finally rasped, “Relationships? Are not stuff I take lightly. And this thing is deciding not only who I'm dating, but what role I'm playing. I'm losing everything to some spell's whim,” he huffed, “Yeah it scares me, cause I don't know what the hell ta _do_ about it. And being powerless is the worst kind to be.”

“I see,” he carefully pulled out a thick shard of glass, a little impressed by how still Stone was keeping, “You do remember my promise to you?”

For a while he said nothing, his eyes focused on the splinters being plucked from his hand. His lips pinched and he swallowed, “I do.”

“I meant it.”

Jacob didn’t answer. Jenkins briefly glanced up, it was enough to make his heart crack. The man looked torn beyond measure. Worried, scared, but at the same furious and bitter. Jenkins removed another piece of glass. “Would you have been more comfortable if it had been someone else?”

Jacob looked at him, destitute momentarily forgone in favour of frowning at him.

“Would have preferred someone else as a bed partner?” he shouldn’t ask this, why would he? He knew the answer, but he couldn’t stop himself.

The frown slid away replaced by a softer expression, “Nah.” he chuckled, “Jones I'd kill, Cassandra would have been awful, like doin’ it with a sister, Eve woulda been awkward, she’s a good friend, and Carson...” he paused, “I woulda killed him too.”

Jenkins removed another piece of glass.

“You're probably the best of the bunch,” scratching the back of his head, he let loose a soft chuckle, “Honestly you're not being weird about it, and it is making it easier to handle. I just don't think I could...”

Jenkins' hands tightened around the wrist, pulled out a splinter, and managed a smile. “I understand.”

Something in his voice must have tipped Stone off, because next thing he knew the man was leaning in to catch his eye. Shock and worry on his face. “No.” he said shaking his head, “You don't understand. Dammit Jenkins, that's not what I meant -”

His hand tightened further. He plucked the final splinter. A rough hand touched his shoulder, when he looked up Jacob's expression had turned from shock to sadness. “Oh man, I've been acting like an ass.”

“No, you have not. It’s perfectly understandable, Mr. Stone.” his voice still held stable, despite everything, despite the fear, the hurt, he still managed to sound so damned calm. He turned away and picked up a cotton ball and anti-septic.

“You’re a great guy-”

  
“Don’t.” his voice was harsher than he meant, “Your reaction is understandable. You don’t need to make me feel better.” he examined the hand carefully.

“ _I need to make you feel better_!”

The shout startled him to look up again. Jacob was now glaring off to the side, breathing heavily.

“It's not _you_ Jenkins.” he said, voice raw, “I'm not throwing up and running and hitting stuff cause it's you. I'm freakin out cause it's something I can't control.” he raised both hands, placing them on his shoulders and halting the nod Jenkins was making, “I'm so damned sorry for making you think, even for a minute that I was freaking out cause it was you.”

“It's fine,” he said, surprised by the small waver in his voice. _I’m just so tired of falling for people who can’t love me back_. All the years pining for Charlene and nothing he did was ever good enough, and now Jacob. Despite having a chance to be together and Jacob had no interest in him.

Tired, it didn't even come close.

He picked up the bandage, and started wrapping up the wounded hand, “I thank you for easing my - “

The hand on his shoulder tightened briefly, bringing Jenkins' focus back to Jacob. “What's really buggin' ya?”

“Pardon?”

“You're avoiding whatever is really eatin ya up.” His slid down to his and Jenkins felt his throat tighten, “Tell me what's going on...”

And he faltered, unable to voice another 'nothing' 'don't or 'it's fine'. They all seemed to disperse in the face of such a worried and open expression. He swallowed, “I simply...” he continued rolling the bandage, “I do not wish to be the cause of– to hurt you, Mr. Stone.”

Stone chuckled, “You're not,” he smiled, and the hand fell away, “Not in the slightest.

Jenkins bit back the urge to touch his cheek, he resisted stepping closer and pressing his face into the crook of the man's neck. Brusquely he finished wrapping up the hand, patted it once and smiled. “Thank you.”

Stone grinned, “You too.”

And Jenkins breathed.


	7. Chapter 7

Jacob would leave shortly after, begging a need for ‘fresh air’. At the door he paused, and invited Jenkins with along with a bright smile. Jenkins saw it for what it was, a means to make up for his poor reactions, not necessarily an actual wish to have him come along. But the offer was still tempting. A few hours in his company without the constant worry looming over them. Spending time together not out of necessity but out of want. So very tempting.

He declined. Jenkins had to find an answer, and they were running out of time. Jacob left, but only after Jenkins promised he would actually rest at one point.

Remembering Charlene got him thinking about other events in his life. Like trying to find his way through a fogged up house, he tried to recall a discussion a lifetime ago about the different means one might enchant a lover. Jenkins sat on his bed, bent over, hands pressed over his face, desperately trying to recall the conversation.

He’d been going on about how Cupid’s arrow was a useless form of enchantment, after it faded one was only left embarrassed. Same with love potions. “There is no way of making a person fall in love without consequences.”

“Oh yes there is!” Charlene had exclaimed.

“Enlighten me.”

With a glint of mischief, she’d led him into the Forbidden section of the library. Deeper and deeper they went until the hairs had pricked on the back of his neck, and the shadows had seemed alive. Finally, she’d stopped and pulled out a small insignificant little booklet and said, “This can do it fine.”

Like a flash Jenkins was on his feet and practically running to the Forbidden section for the second time that day. The books whispered and groaned against their constraining hexes as he entered. Pushing further and further in, he scanned the rows of books, looking for strange titles, for a small black little –

There!

He reached up and grabbed it, and flipped it to read the title, _The_ _Destiny Ribbon_ , _a love enchantment_.

"Oh, damn it all. Of course!" He laughed. It was such a rare thing, barely anyone knew of it. One of the only spells in the world that could, in theory, _make_ you fall in love. Elated, he marched back down the corridor and headed for their small room. When Jacob returned, he hoped to be ready to break the spell.

The book could barely be called a book. It wasn’t very thick, about thirty pages in total, with basic illustrations in between, some basic hand gestures in how to cast it, and a wood etching of the man who’d invented it. In essence the Destiny Ribbon functioned as a bridge between two potential lovers. A sort of link, helping them reach a comfortable sort of relationship, preferably romantic. Mostly used for arranged marriages, the Ribbon was a sort of insurance that heirs would be produced and that the interactions were at least pleasurable for both parties. Would certainly make sense, the thought dryly, they were so preoccupied with lines back in those days. 

_Please do note, the ribbon's main function is not to force love, but to help love blossom. Thus, there must be at least a form of attraction from both parties, either physical or otherwise. Using the Ribbon in a tyrannical sense will only hinder the spell, and could possibly result in the early expiration of one or both individuals._

Jenkins stared at the pages, his own heart ramming so hard he was certain it was about to rip through his chest. _There was must a form of attraction_... did this mean that, Jacob, that he could possibly?

_The Ribbon guides them into taking actions they would normally never have considered under different circumstances_. It was helping them, only building on what was already _there_ -

He shook his head, pressing a hand over his eyes. No, no it couldn't be, if there had been any sort of attraction Jacob would surely have enjoyed the encounters far more than he did? But the small fire of hope wouldn't die, and like a new acquired artefact, he poked it and prodded it, hoping it would show its secrets. Perhaps, he swallowed, perhaps Jacob hadn't realised? His heart fluttered. The human heart is a funny thing, could it be that he'd simply never put two and two together? Could Jacob truly harbour more for him than comradery? 

Jenkins huffed, It didn't matter right now, whatever Jacob felt, whatever his heart wanted didn't matter. Jenkins had to find a means to break the spell. He'd sworn he would.

But his heart sank as he continued to read. Breaking the spell was not as easy as casting it. It was going to be _painful_. He frowned, a spike of anger making him slam down his teacup a little harder than necessary. After all the turmoil and heartache they'd endured, now they had to go through this as well? 

Jenkins was about ready to burn this little bastard of a book.

But another growing uncertainty began to take hold of his soul. He paged back to the _Conjuring_ section and his unease only grew, settling in the far corners of his dying joy. The Destiny Ribbon could only be connected after the spell was cast. You had to physically touch both parties in a very short amount of time.

Furthermore, the spell had been lost years ago. The only copy was in the library.

The more he thought of it, the more his sense of dread escalated. Swallowing, he turned to the first page of the book, where the Library recorded who had last used the book.

_Charlene, January 9, 2017_

_I know you like someone. Tell them or I will do something drastic_!

And in that moment a horrible realization dawned. Jenkins collapsed on the sofa, and pressed his face into his hands, “Oh Charlene, it was never your choice to make!” A whip of anger sent him to his feet. How dare she! How dare she decide for them! What right did she have? “Did you even think of the consequences? No, of course you didn’t! You bloody foolish woman!”

His hand spasmed so suddenly he nearly tripped over his own feet. He watched in a morbid fashion as his fingers tightened, the muscles contorting and hardening before slowly easing. He breathed hard, watching as his hands relaxed into its normal state.

Spinning around he grabbed the book and flipped it open.

_Symptoms and their meanings_

He scanned over the meanings of the different colours of the ribbon, over feelings of warmth and happiness, and stopped his finger over ‘cramps’.

_Cramps or spams in the hand: A symptom of adultery of the ribbon. One or more parties are impurifying the union through an affair._

The wave of embarrassment was enough to weaken his legs completely. Jenkins stumbled back to the couch and collapsed, dropping the vile book beside him. Oh, damn it all. He didn’t need to know that, he could have lived with the assumption it was the distance only, it was perhaps their stubbornness, their unwillingness to dance to the whims of the spell.

Not this ultimate humiliation.

His hand spasmed again and Jenkins held it close to his chest, unable to stop thinking about what Jacob was currently doing with someone else.


	8. Chapter 8

The room was almost pitch dark when Jacob finally returned. The lamp had burned down some time ago, but Jenkins had not had the strength to light it again.

“Jenkins?” it was whispered, carried into the darkness to wrap around his heart and clench it. Damn it all.

“I'm here Mr. Stone.”

Stone walked in and after a moment of shuffling a dim light hummed to life pushing back the shadows. He came to stand in front of him and reached out to touch his aching hand, finally stopping the painful cramp. Jenkins didn't spare him a glance.

“Did ya figure somethin out?”

Yes. He thought, while you have been fucking your tart in the local brothel, I did get the necessary information to fix this. He wanted to spit this at him, to make him feel as awful and hurt as he had only a few hours ago, but he couldn't. This was not Stone's error, not his mistake and his coping method was understandable. No matter how much it hurt.

“Yes,” he finally managed, “I did.”

“Great!” Stone practically yelled, kneeling in front of him, eager and hopeful, “So what is it and how do we stop it?”

“Destiny Ribbon.” Jenkins expected the silence, Jacob's expression was one of confusion but also of consideration, when his frown only deepened, Jenkins quickly continued, “A ribbon tied between two people to... help them fall in love.”

“How does that work?”

Jenkins shifted, “It simply lowers inhibitions, like being drunk, but without the hangover. Actions taken while under its power is...” not entirely involuntary, there has to be some attraction or bond between the parties for it to work. He bit down, “... impossible to resist. Which is why we were so easily swayed by it.”

Jake nodded a long, “Okay, so how do we break it?”

He unfolded from the couch, and picked up a pair of golden scissors on the small table. “We cut it.” before Jacob could react, he muttered a low incantation and slowly the ribbon formed. Black and silky it rippled between them, as if in a stasis of water, it wrapped snug around the middle-finger and looped its way up their arms, to the shoulder where it dissappeared.

“Wow.”

Jenkins smiled faintly, “Indeed.”

Cautiously, Jacob lifted a hand to touch it, but it swayed lazily away, holding a distance. “How did we end up with a destiny ribbon?”

Jenkins swallowed, “It could be any number of things, but we can discuss the how later, let’s just get this over with for now.”

Jacob looked like he wanted to protest, his expression one of obstinate stubbornness, but it quickly faded as he nodded, most assuredly eager to be rid of the bond. “Why's it black?”

Because you’ve been sleeping with someone, leaving me to figure out the problem. He firmly stamped down on the thought, Unfair and uncalled for. “It has to do with the relationship and whether it’s working.” He waved a quick hand, “It is not important for now, I will discuss it later.”

Another terse silence, another hard glare, but Jacob thankfully let it go. “So how does this work? Do we just cut it?”

For a brief moment hesitation bit down around him, uncertainty weighing in too. “I’m going to have to warn you Mr. Stone, cutting this ribbon will be… painful.”

Silence weighed around them, “How painful.”

He smiled, “Excruciating.” he huffed a soft laugh, “Your body will be rejecting the essence, the magic of it all, but still ‘devouring’ it. Essentially absorbing magical emotion.” And turmoil. My turmoil. he pulled it closer with the scissors, “The more your body needs to devour the more painful and longer it will take to do so.”

Stone nodded, hands flexing by his side, then with a quick hand he grabbed the ribbon, and with sharp movements he measured it. After a moment he grabbed a point. “This is the middle.” he said, and smiled, “Equal parts?”

His expression was firm, confident, and fierce and Jenkins felt his heart wrench. He’d never looked at him like that as if daring him to say different, as if he could read his mind, as if he cared enough to worry that he might do something foolish. Probably never will again.

Grasping the point in his right hand, he watched the ribbon dance and ripple between them, the light dancing across the silky texture. No spell, he felt, in his entire 1000 years of existence had caused him more pain than this. But before he cut it, he was going to have to make sure it carried a whisper of happiness.

So, wrapping the point around his pinky he stepped closer to Jacob, praying the man would not hate him for this. “You will, I hope, forgive me for this, Mr. Stone.” And before the man could say anything, he slipped his hand over a rough cheek, leaned in close and then kissed him.

Warmth didn’t pool up from his belly and bloom over his skin, he didn’t float and nor did his mind become hazy. But it was wonderful and real, and firm, and everything he’d thought it might be like without a spell coaxing him to touch. He took a step closer and deepened the kiss. His heart fluttered a little when for a brief moment he was certain Jacob was kissing him back. 

With his heart soaring, and Jacob still distracted, Jenkins reached down and cut the ribbon.


	9. Chapter 9

Jenkins was kissing him. Of his own violation, with no spell working. Shock muted Jacob entirely. But any words he may have had would be swallowed by the expert kiss - _wait, why are you kissing_ \- his thoughts were drowned out by sensation, the texture of Jenkins lips so soft, something he’d never noticed before. He could feel the palm trace over his face, touching the feathery hairs by his ear, making him shudder.

Jenkins moved closer - _what are you doi-oh!_ \- a small sound escaped his throat, making him lift a hand to touch a broad shoulder - _need to push you off, and ask what_ \- then Jacob tilted his head and moved his lips. Jenkins hummed softly into his mouth, making his knees weak. _This is -_

His finger pricked painfully. Stone stumbled back, breath rushing and heart pounding he stared at Jenkins, who smiled serenely.

“I had not meant to cut it quite that close. But you are very distracting, Mr. Stone.”

His head snapped down. The ribbon had been cut right at the point of his right finger where a tiny welt of blood was blossoming, he looked down where it lay in a pool on the ground, crumpled and ugly, and running up to Jenkins’s hand.

“But at least it worked out.”

He wanted to yell at him, demand that he damn well cut it again. But the next thing out his mouth was an ear-piercing scream, and then he collapsed.

* * *

Jake came to in pure agony. He was sure he’d been hit by a truck, or the Minotaur, or both. Slowly his eyes cracked open, he was shaking, wet and in so much pain. He looked down at his arm, the ribbon was barely a quarter of the way, and still on going, swallowed steadily by his skin, absorbing it so fucking _slowly_.

With immeasurable effort he turned his head. Jenkins was on the floor, back to him and breathing heavily. He needed to help him, but he wasn’t about to help anyone in this state.

Biting down against the pain he managed after another pause to roll on his side, and then upright. After another long pause he pushed up letting another scream loose – everything _hurt_ – and stood, swaying before staggering out to find help.

Every step felt like jolting a body with fractured bones from head to toe. By the time he reached the stairs tears were freely flowing, and he could barely stay upright. Through blurred vision he pushed open the doors, spotted Cassandra in the Annex, tittered two steps and collapsed in a heap.

“Oh my gosh, Jake!” he heard footsteps, “Someone get Jenkins!”

Jake wanted so badly to laugh at that, but humor was drowned out by the throbbing in his skull. “Get… Flynn.” he gasped through grit teeth when she reached him. Kneeling down she placed a hand on his back -

“Sto-op!” he screamed, curling up and gritting his teeth against the fire on his skin.

“I’m sorry!” she squeaked, “Flynn!” she stumbled to a stand, “Please, _please_ get in here! There’s something v-very wrong!”

He could hear the tears, the thickness of her voice, he wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything was fine, he wasn’t dying. But words were getting harder to form, thoughts muddled and drowned out by the pain, pumping around him, tearing him down at the seams. He was falling apart, barely holding on to consciousness.

“What’s going on?”

He never thought he’d this happy to hear that voice in his life.

“He-he stumbled in and c-collapsed,” _Oh Cassie, I’m fine, it just hurts, please calm down_ , “I tried to-to touch him, but-but it _hurt_ him -”

Her voice drifted away, he could hear more voices, probably Eve and Jones.

Then suddenly there was someone next to him again, “Jake?” Flynn, thank God, “Can you speak?”

I can, he thought, just please give me enough time. He didn’t know if Flynn was a mind reader, but the man did wait patiently, keeping his hands to himself while Jake scrounged together thoughts and words to make sense.

“Jenkins,” he forced out, “...cut... Dest- _ng_ -ny Rib-” another wave of fire rippled through him, choking his breath, he bowed his head and tried to ride it out.

“Destiny Ribbon?” he heard him ask, and quickly nodded, “Jenkins cut it? You two were connected?”

Letting out a relieved breath he nodded again, “Needsh… help.” he forced out, “Took most of…”

He didn’t need to finish, in an instant the Flynn stood, “Get him to a bed, keep him hydrated and try not to touch him too much!” the doors whooshed open and he heard Flynn’s steps disappear down the Library hall.

Jake breathed a sigh of relief, closed his eyes and finally let go of consciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

Every time he came to it was agony, screaming, burning fiery agony that had him shaking and sweating. Every time he fell asleep again, he half-way hoped he wouldn't wake up, just to end the pain. But every time he did there was someone there, he could barely make out voices or faces, but there was always someone to wipe his forehead, give him water or just talk to him, soothe him through the pain. He didn’t think he would have survived without it.

When next he woke up there was only a distant hum in his bones, a dull pain, wrapped up warm by the blankets. Slowly he rolled over, surprised to find himself in a bed. He felt weak, like recovering from the worst flu he’d ever experienced. His muscles _ached_.

“You’re awake.”

He turned his head to find Flynn next to his bed, arms crossed and expression blank. Jake wasn’t sure why he looked so… guarded, but it didn’t matter what Flynn was thinking, Jake really only had one question.

“Jn.. ins?” or at least an attempt of one.

Flynn stared at the ground, “We found him,” his eyes flicked back up, “He's got a rough time ahead of him.”

“How far…?”

Flynn’s eyes flicked down and away, “Not even a tenth of it.”

Oh God, that poor bastard. Jake felt like he'd barely survived such a short part. How long would it take for that whole ribbon to get absorbed. Jenkins was of course immortal, but still. The sudden spike of anger dimmed his sympathy to almost nothing, damn Jenkins for cutting the ribbon so close! Why does he always have to put his own well-being behind everyone else? Why was that even a _thing_? 

“So,” Flynn said at length, “a Destiny Ribbon.”

Jake remained silent, whatever it was the man wanted to say, he would get to it eventually.

“Nasty things, very rare, and hard to conjure.” Flynn smacked him lips, “Do you know who summoned it?”

He shook his head, “We decided to figure that out later.” his voice rasped against a raw throat raw with each word. He coughed and Flynn quickly helped him sit up. After another few short coughs, Flynn brought him a glass of water, Jake sipped it gratefully, his hands too weak to even keep the glass up.

Flynn replaced the glass, “Do you even know anything about them?”

“Only that they make people fall in love.”

“No,” Flynn said, giving a heavy sigh, “They don’t _make_ people fall in love, they _help_ people fall in love.”

He shifted against the headboard, finally finding a comfortable position over the pillow. “What’s the difference?”

Again, Flynn sighed, “The difference between helping someone across the street and making someone cross the street. One is voluntary, the other isn't”

"Jenkins said it wasn't entirely voluntary," he shrugged. "So it doesn't really matter."

Flynn’s eyes became tight with utter confusion. Jake only frowned back, but waited for him to continue. What ever the hell was going on in that head would come out eventually. It never got stuck for long. Slowly the confusion eased into a sort of understanding. “You never realized.” He shook his head and huffed a short laugh, “That explains a lot.”

“What? What explains what?”

Flynn was still frowning, but his entire demeanor felt like one of resignation, “Why he kept quiet, why he didn’t tell you anything, why he cut the ribbon so close…” he sat forward again, waving a hand as if it to disperse with the whole thing. “Just explains his actions. He so likes to fall on his own sword.” The smile was wistful, a touch bitter. “Even when it’s not really needed.”

“What are you talking about?”

Flynn shrugged and fell silent. Jake was about to press further, but a distinct sense of unease and uncertainty halted him.

“Jenkins said somethin' about why colours are important for a ribbon.” he said, hopeful that if he changed the subject, somehow everything would begin to make sense. “Why was ours black?”

Flynn looked at him again, his eyes hard and piercing. Then finally he shifted with a sigh, and for a desperate moment Jake wished dearly he would go back to being the usual pompous asshole he was used to. This reserved, nervous version was making him worry. “It was dark blue,” he replied, “If it had been black you would be dead.”

His head snapped to Flynn. “What?”

Flynn stood, nervous energy rippling around him, “A ribbon’s shade determines the disposition of the couple. Pink means a new love, blue means they’re destined, orange means strong but rocky, wine red a deep love, and so forth. If the shade grows lighter it means their drifting apart, but amiably. But if the shade grows darker the more unstable the relationship is.” he stopped pacing, “Things like arguments, cheating, lies, deceit all these sorts of things will darken it, if it goes black, and you cut it. You die.”

Jake frowned, suddenly very unsure, “But I saw it before he cut it, it was damned black as night!”

Flynn hesitated, grabbed the chair pulled it closer, leaned over and asked, “Tell me everything that happened while you were under it.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up, “Everything?”

“Well, spare me the more intimate details, but as much as you can.”

A flicker of uncertainty made him pause. This was as much Jenkins’s story as it was his. Would it be right to tell it? Was it even really his to tell? A gentle hand touched his forearm, he glanced up and Flynn was smiling at him, “I don’t think he’d mind.”

How the hell the man even knew Jake would never know, but it did bring him peace that he understood. Leaning back, Jake swallowed a little and finally said, “Started that day with the Marshmallow spell in Australia…” he stared at the ceiling and smiled, remembering the strange event. “We were working, trying to figure out a symbol, and the next thing I knew I’d leaned up and kissed him on the cheek…”

Remembering everything turned out to be quite an ordeal. He’d been so desperate to forget it all he'd shoved it down as far as it could go. Recalling it now? It was like reliving it all over again. Flynn for his part kept rather quiet, only nodding or asking brief questions, “how did he take it?” or “Did he seem upset?”

The questions brought into sharp focus something Jake hadn’t taken stock of before. Jenkins’ reaction to the whole ordeal. At first, he’d seemed quite amiable about it, calm and collected. Classic Jenkins. But as time wore on and Jacob’s reaction became more volatile, he began to withdraw, almost trying to make himself smaller, to disappear entirely.

As if he hated himself.

He recalled the conversation in the bathroom and with no prompt from Flynn he remembered the broken expression on his face, as if he’d been rejected by someone he cared about. As if, only moments before, his entire world had crashed down around him with no hope to repair it, and Jake too wrapped up in his own misery hadn't noticed. 

_Why he kept quiet, why he didn’t tell you anything, why he cut the ribbon so close…_

And like mallet to the face, it hit him all at once.

Jenkins with his big heart and good soul, was in love with him.

The first reaction was shock, a sort of cool whisper, numbing him to the bone. It all seemed so absurd. That Jenkins, a Knight, a noble warrior (from the _Round Table_ ) and immortal could fall for Jacob "Jake" Stone. A rough around the edges, bar-brawling mortal, with a love for art and architecture. It was almost impossible to comprehend. But the delightful shock was soon smothered by a a wave of sickness. Like a bad collage he recalled every single he'd wiped his mouth after a kiss, sneered in disgust at a touch, shouted, cursed or even vomited.

And Jenkins, kind and sweet, always standing close by ready to help him cope despite his own turmoil.

_He so likes to fall on his own sword_.

By the time he got to last night he felt worse than dog shit.

“Oh God, I fuckin' _hurt_ him.” he huffed a rough laugh, “I went out to have sex. Just some random woman, I can’t even remember her name.”

“It’s fine.” he waved an impatient hand, “Jenkins doesn't blame you for it, if he did, he wouldn’t have cut it so close to your hand.”

Which just made everything worse. How could he have missed this? IQ of 190 and he couldn't see the forest for the trees. Couldn't see that a man's heart was on the line, didn't realise why he was so willing to put himself through that pain to spare Jake. 

“Tell me what happened after you got back.”

He blinked, surprised to find his eyes stung a little, “I, um, found him in the same nook, he was sittin' in the dark, looking a little lost.” he wiped his brow, “Told me about the ribbon, showed it to me …and after he explained how the body absorbed it, I found the middle, cause I had a suspicion he was gonna do something stupid.”

“Noble.” Flynn corrected with a quick smile.

He buried his face in his hands, “He took the ribbon, in hand, and then...” he swallowed, “Then kissed me.” he huffed, “There was no spell, no warmth, just – just a kiss.”

Flynn immediately perked up, and sat a little closer. “How did it feel?”

Stone winced, suddenly wishing to be anywhere else but here.

“Jake,” he touched his shoulder, “Tell me how you felt about that kiss.”

“Good.” he said, voice hoarse and thick. “Real damned good, like...” he choked, “Like coming home.”


	11. Chapter 11

The relief on Flynn’s face was almost comical, but Jake wasn’t smiling. Like the impact of a mountain tilting on its face, his foundations shook and he felt his whole world begin to blur out of focus. He liked Jenkins. As in he liked, liked Jenkins. More than like, like, there was a lot of likes in there… when did this _happen_?

Probably all those times you sought out his advice, you chatted with him for no other reason than just to talk with him. Using any excuse to seek out his company, even if it felt a little trivial. Just being around him often made you happy. Oh damn, he had it bad.

Flynn stood, his smile bright and perky, “Good! Now that you’ve gotten your head out of your ass, there is something you can do.” He grabbed Jake by the arm and dragged him out of bed. Jake barely kept his footing, firing off swear words as he was pulled out of the room and down the hall.

“What the hell Flynn?” he snapped when they finally came to a stop in front of a closed door. “I’m still in my boxers!” his torso was freezing!

“You can help Jenkins.” All of his anger died in those four words.

“How?”

“By touching him.” Jake paled, but Flynn quickly continued, “Nothing sexual, anything will do, it works like the cramps, if you touch him it will bring him relief, but it has to be done willingly.”

Jake was already shaking his head, “I can’t… it’s just too much, I only just realized that I’m even …” his throat tightened and he shook his head again, “I can’t even say it out loud, Flynn!”

Flynn grabbed him by the shoulders, “That’s fine, you don’t have to.” He implored, “Start small, you know? Like…” and he smiled, “Holding his hand.”

Jake swallowed. Holding his hand? Could he do that? Flynn wasn’t giving him a lot of time to think, he pulled open the door and shoved Jake inside, giving him a bright and a thumbs up before slamming the door shut.

Pressing a Stone in one direction would only serve in getting them to go the opposite, storming back to the door he reached out to rip it open, give Flynn a piece of his mind and leave.

A soft whimper made him pause, hand hovering just above the knob. Slowly, Jacob turned and instantly his heart cracked. Curled up on his side, back to the door, was Jenkins, shivering and shaking enduring full body spasms with the smallest of whimpers. If he was feeling anything Jake had, it was quite impressive. Jake’s throat was still raw from all that screaming.

Just hold his hand, that’s all he had to do.

Such a small task with titanic implications. He liked him, possibly even…

How the hell did this happen without him knowing? How had they both danced around each other so easily, and for so long? Another pitiful sound yanked him clear of his brooding. He swallowed, right now it didn’t matter, right now he had to help Jenkins.

And he could.

With much less certain strides than he’d hoped, he made his way over to the bed and sat down cautiously. Jenkins was sweating, his skin a stark pale in the yellow light. Next to the bed were numerous cloths and basins, recently used.

His heart hammered, thinking of everything that might change the second he reached out. Of everything that might fall away or that might even break. This wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly. He wanted to help, he would always want to help his friends. He just didn’t know if he was entirely ready to accept this part of himself. He’d finally found a home, what if he lost it because of this?

But unbidden, like a ghost from memory he recalled Jenkins in all of this misery. The pain he smothered completely to care for Jacob. The determination to let go of something he desired, no matter his own turmoil.

He also remembered smiles, and shared jokes. The softer moments nestled in between the frustration and bitterness. The kindness and sardonic humour, warm pockets safely tucked in a little chamber in his heart he hadn’t even realized he was keeping safe.

Jacob smiled briefly; his countenance at least a little lighter. Perhaps he might lose something, a lot might change, but what he was, hopefully, about to gain would outweigh it.

He reached out and placed his hand on a tight shoulder.

Immediately Jenkins let out a shaky breath, his whole body collapsing out from under the tension, sprawled and gasping he lay still, even as Jacob rubbed a soothing hand over his shoulders. There were thick lines, crisscrossing over his back, old wounds that had dug deep into the skin. Jacob didn’t want to touch it, worried it might upset Jenkins.

“You a’right?” he drawled.

Jenkins blinked his eyes open and slowly, with immeasurable effort, he turned around to flop on his back. His eyes tired, but sparked with curiosity. “Ms…r to…ne?”

He chuckled, “Yeah.”

For a moment he stared at him, exhaustion slowly dissipating. He swallowed, “Feel like shit.”

“Ya would,” he laughed, surprised by the swear. But his smile faded under the sudden spike of anger.

Jenkins frowned, “Should I be… asking you that question …Mr. Stone?”

The same exchange felt so long ago. Back then, Jacob had been so terrified of the whole thing. He still was a little, if he were honest. Keeping a light touch on his shoulder, he leaned a little closer. “I said equal parts, y’know?”

The flash of guilt was almost enough to appease him, but Jenkins was a stubborn old bastard at the best of times, “I did so, Mr. Stone because you are _human_ , and I most assuredly am not.” He gestured weakly, showing off the ribbon lying over his legs. “If you had taken that amount it would have probably killed you.”

“So, it had nothing ta do with you likin’ me? And feelin’ like you had to make up for that, cause somehow in that head of yours you decided you had hurt me?”

Gaping like a fish was a perfectly description. Jenkins took a moment to even shut his mouth and by then his face had crumbled into something akin to regret. “You are correct, Mr. Stone.” The voice was soft, bereft of anything but understanding, “You are correct.” He nodded, closed his eyes and when he opened them all emotion had somehow been sealed away behind a façade of a smile. It would be impressive if it wasn’t at the same time so heartbreaking, “But I can assure you, this will not impede my relationship with you, if you are perhaps worried about my…” he cleared his throat, “feelings.”

Jacob shook his head, even as his heart beat a happy rhythm. Stupid man. “Jenkins,” he reached out and touched his other shoulder as well, “Open your eyes man.”

The words seemed to take a moment, but Jenkins still blinked and look around, still unsure. Jacob smiled, leaned a little closer and whispered, “I’m here. With ya, willingly.”

Like a blossom touched by the sun for the first time, Jenkins’ entire face bloomed in wonder and utter delight. In perfect awe, in hope and joy. “You…” he whispered, his throat contracting painfully, “Mr. Sto- _Jacob_ , you want to…” and he shut his eyes tight, unable to stop a tear from slipping loose.

Unable to bear this a moment longer, Jacob pulled open the covers and slid in, pressing close to the man, wrapping an arm carefully around his shoulders, “Yeah, I do. I’m here Jenkins, s’alright.” Jenkins practically buried himself into Jacob’s shoulder. His breathing hard and long as he tried to bring himself back under control. The emotion was surprising. It spoke of a man who had managed to convince himself for a very long time he wasn’t worthy.

The mere thought baffled Jacob. How could a knight of the round table even think that for a moment? What had happened to make him think this way? That somehow, he wasn’t worthy? He shook his head, didn’t matter now, right now they were where they wanted to be. And Jacob would set things right.

After some time, Jenkins calmed enough to relax his grip a little, but he wouldn’t let go entirely. Not that Jacob was complaining. The weight and warmth were more welcome than he imagined it would be.

“I’ve been around for a very long time.” Jenkins ventured, “I know that things might change…” Jacob stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

“What do ya mean?”

“Only that,” he cleared his throat, Jacob couldn’t recall seeing the man this unsure. “I want you to know that, should you find someone, ah, more acceptable, I won’t make it difficult for you.”

The words hung between them like rotten beef. Jacob’s whole heart first pumped with anger, then soothed by understanding. Jenkins was not saying he would prefer it if Jacob left, rather that he would understand if he did. As if Jacob would prefer to.

“Hey,” he touched his face, gently turning Jenkins to look him in the eye, “I told you before. I don’t take relationships lightly. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t. We can’t do much about that. But I aint gonna leave just because it gets difficult. It’s part of being together, and I’m not leavin you for a tart in a nice dress.” He leaned closer, touching their foreheads, and for a brief moment he was certain the man was shaking. “We’re in it together, yeah?”

Jenkins swallowed hard, then nodded, soft and a little uncertain. Before Jacob could say anything, he pulled back a little, dragging Jacob with him, to settle him against his side. Leaning close he nuzzles Jake’s hair. A drop of moisture plipped into his scalp, and Jake peeked up. Jenkins’s eyes were closed, a contended smile pulling over his face.

Jake smiled back and settled back down, the warmth blooming straight through his heart. This whole thing was new and uncertain, if anyone had told Jenkins in love with him two months ago he would have said it’s impossible. And maybe it still feels that way a little. But hell, the Librarians eat the impossible every day. Twice before breakfast.

His eye caught the crumpled Ribbon still slowly being absorbed by Jenkins. It has caused them so much misery, but here at the end of it all, Jake couldn’t be entirely angry about it. A thought nibbled at the back of his head, something Flynn had said earlier about ribbons.

“Yours had been dark blue if it had been black, you’d both be dead.”

“Blue means they’re destined.”

His heart leapt and he smiled again, settling a little closer, Destiny Ribbon indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was in the mood for writing and so finished this one a day earlier. I am working on a short one-shot for GalaStone called 'Cultured' but it's still in the early stages, so it will still be a while XD It will be a little lighter than this one, not so much ANGST! Lol!
> 
> But thank you to everyone who read this story, and hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
